Good Boy
by Richonne
Summary: Daryl catches Beth in a very private, intimate moment.


"I don't know, man. We could have an emergency and I'd be no good if I'm drunk."

Zach laughed. His eyes were glassy from the two beers he'd already had. "Come on, Daryl. It's just a few beers. Tell him, Rick."

Rick held up his hands, electing to keep out of it.

"I'm sure if something happens we have enough manpower handle it," Zach insisted.

"One or two, that's all," Daryl relented. "That's _all_," he repeated, when Zach looked as though he was going to press the issue.

The younger man gave up arguing and nodded. "Okay. Two."

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it, then," said Rick, before he snagged a beer for himself and then headed to the food pavilion for something to eat.

"I used a month of my battery rations for this ice," Zach said, somewhat proudly.

Daryl reached into the cooler and fished a can of Budweiser from the slush. He popped it open and took a long pull. He had to consciously keep himself from moaning. God, it had been ages since he'd had a cold beer on a hot evening. The beer was like nectar from the gods, and it didn't taste the slightest bit stale, even though it had been canned over four years previously.

Daryl enjoyed a deep belch and Zach laughed.

"Hey, man, look. There's Beth Greene and Lindie Canton."

Daryl nodded and refrained from a sarcastic 'so what?' He liked Zach, but the boy sometimes annoyed Daryl in that little brother kind of way. Daryl wondered if he'd ever gotten on Merle's nerves the same way Zach sometimes got on his.

"Beth…she's hot, but she won't let me get close. I asked her out to movie night I don't know how many times and she always turns me down."

Daryl remembered Beth's last boyfriend, and how he'd literally been eaten by a swarm of walkers. It was little wonder the girl was hesitant to let someone in. Daryl wasn't going to say that. He wasn't going to give Zach any ammo to shoot down Beth's defenses. If he got in with her, he'd have to do it on his own.

He grunted instead, knowing that Zach was fishing for advice on women, and probably the ulterior motive for sharing the beer.

"I think she likes you," Zach noted.

Daryl frowned. "What?"

"Beth. I think she likes you," he said.

"Naw, man. Beth ain't into me like that."

Zach now looked at Daryl with a frown.

"Dude, you're _really_ oblivious, aren't you? All the girls here are hot for you and Rick. Some like Glenn, too, but he's married to Maggie, so there's no way they'd try to cross that line, especially with him being on the council and everything and nobody's looking to get kicked out. They don't go after Rick because they figure he's got something going with Xena. Michonne, I mean. I call her Xena because...well, anyway...That leaves you, so I figured you must be swimming in pussy."

Daryl considered it. He'd never been very good with women. Sure, he'd had his share of tail, but as far as deep relationships went he'd always been unlucky. When the women at the prison flirted he ignored it. Last thing he needed was a bunch of pregnant women running around carrying his kids. Also, he knew it would hurt Carol, and he didn't want that to happen, even if he didn't feel the same for her as she felt for him.

"I don't think Beth is into me, so you got nothing to worry about," Daryl insisted. Thankfully, Zach dropped the subject.

Two beers turned into six. Back in the day a six pack would barely have fazed him, but after years of not touching a single drop of alcohol, six beers had Daryl buzzing pretty good. He took a few moments to splash his head and face with cold water, and scrubbed some of the sweat off his chest and his armpits before heading off to bed to sleep it off.

Beth's cell wasn't far from the old office he'd claimed as his room. Daryl was heading past her cell when he heard a moan. He stopped dead in his tracks as panic lanced like a spear through his gut. An image of Beth, dead, reanimated, came to mind. He yanked open the flimsy privacy curtain to her cell, praying to God he wouldn't find her like that.

His prayer was answered. Beth was alive and well. She was also stark naked, her legs wide open, and he was slowly sliding a neon pink dildo in and out of her with one hand, while she tweaked her hardened nipples with the other.

Daryl had never hardened so quickly, or so intensely, in his life. He dropped the curtain and stepped back, hoping she hadn't spotted him, and soon he realized she hadn't picked up on his presence. Another little gasp and then Beth's pace quickened. The hall was silent except for the moist sound of the dildo sliding in and out of Beth's wet pussy, and Daryl's blood pounding in his own ears.

_Leave. Leave. _

Daryl tried to go but his feet were rooted to the floor. He should have felt guilty for intruding, but all he could feel was horny and hot. He watched Beth continue to work the ugly dildo. She leaned up on one elbow and began to thrust hard as a sheen of sweat glistened on her brow and on her beautifully perky breasts. She was close now. Her gasps had turned to moans. Suddenly her juices gushed from her to coat her hand and soak into the careworn sheets beneath her.

"Oh," Daryl sighed, caught up in the beauty of her climax.

He froze, then, wondering if she'd heard him, but he doubted she'd heard anything over her moans and heavy breathing. He moved away when she collapsed back on the bed to catch her breath. She kissed the ugly colored dildo and smiled.

"Good boy, Daryl."

Daryl. Shit. She'd named her dildo Daryl. He crept away after she cut off her light to go to sleep. He felt his face flush and his erection throb with need. There was a bottle of baby oil in his room waiting for him to pick it up. He decided, as he closed the door behind him, he'd name that bottle of oil Beth.


End file.
